The Good Shepherd

This post is adapted from a homily I gave on Sunday November 24th, 2013.  The readings for that day were:

Jeremiah 23:1-6
Luke 1: 68-79
Luke 23:  32-43

Today is the last Sunday before Advent, and for nearly 100 years has been called “Christ the King” Sunday.  So the readings today concern kings. Some of them are kings in the way we tend to think of earthly kings- kings who are in it for themselves, for power and for riches.  Jeremiah talks about some of those kings, who he also calls “shepherds”  who are so far off the path themselves that they lead their people astray.  

Jeremiah also talks about the good kings, the good shepherds, that can bring their people back.  He is talking partly about the good kings who advocated on behalf of those who were poor, and who strove for justice.  However he is also talking about God as a Good King, and Good Shepherd, who will gather the people back together, bring them back into the fold. 

This ultimate Good Shepherd will also raise up other good shepherds who will do what all good shepherds do – take care of and protect the flock, keep them on the path, keep the predators away.  And indeed, through the ages God has worked to send good shepherds to lead the people, to be with them and to lead them to righteousness.  Moses is one of them, as is Jeremiah.  And of course we have Jesus.  

Richard Swanson says what is remarkable about the Christian tradition is that God promises to come to be with us.  In other religions it’s about being raised up to where God lives, but in Christianity (and in Judaism) God comes to meet us where we are. Not only that, God comes to be with us in a very real way – as “Emmanuel, “ which means “God is with us.”  The God of Christianity is a very real and present God, ever faithful to us. 

We have two readings from Luke. The first is the song of Zechariah, which he sings after the birth of his son.  We can see Zechariah’s song as an affirmation of God’s faithfulness to us. Zechariah’s song is about another of those good shepherds God sent to be with us – his son who will be John the Baptist.  His son came to announce and prepare the way for the Good Shepherd that is Jesus. 

Now Jeremiah used the terms “shepherd” and “king” as though they were the same.  Today being Christ the King Sunday, we can ask then what kind of shepherd or king was Jesus?  What did he come to teach us to do – how does he lead us back to the right path?  It seems to be that Jesus leads both by teaching and by example and through both he teaches us how to live a good life.  

Then in the second Gospel reading, Jesus teaches us how to die a good death even in the worst of circumstances.  Crucifixion was a terrible punishment meant to crush the humanity out of those crucified and those who looked on.  I suppose most of the time it worked. But not this time, at least not with everyone who was there.

You may notice that the reading says, “and the people stood by, watching.”  Here Luke is talking about the faithful among Jesus’ followers.  “The people” are his family and friends who have come to bear witness to his suffering and to the injustice of it.  They are faithful and they surround him.  They do not abandon him.  In doing this they hold on to their humanity. They have learned from the life of and example of Jesus, to remain faithful and to stand in witness.

As they watch, Jesus teaches them how to die in incredibly inhumane circumstances.  Jesus refuses to let go of his humanity. Jesus, Emmanuel, the Good Shepherd, asks God to forgive those who are crucifying him, and mocking him.  That’s pretty extraordinary. And he sees the remorse of the faithful thief, and offers him God’s forgiveness, says he will that day see he paradise of the heavenly kingdom.

Jesus the Good Shepherd leads us by teaching, and by living a life we can only hope to imitate.  Jesus the Good Shepherd also leads us by teaching us how to die with extraordinary goodness.  He shows us how to remain kind in the midst of suffering, and to be forgiving towards those who are cruel towards us.

As a hospital chaplain, every day I witness different ways of coping with suffering, illness, pain, and even death.  Sad to say, sometimes I witness the “ordinary” behaviors of abusing nurses and their aids, complaining about and to their doctors, even being snippy and picking fights with family members and other loved ones.  We see family members sometimes picking fights with patients.

But most of the time I see people who are in pain acting kindly even towards our staff, towards their own family and friends, and even toward other patients here.  I witness the extraordinary good of people who are dying recognizing their own faults and asking for forgiveness.  I see the extraordinary good of suffering people who forgive those in life who have cause them suffering.  

I see the extraordinary goodness of people who hold onto their humanity until the end – facing death bravely and even serenely.  As difficult as it is to witness such a person dying, it is extraordinarily uplifting to witness this kindness and their courage.  

And I see the extraordinary goodness staff so often show to patients – being patient and kind even with those who are difficult, forgiving those who recognize their lapses and ask forgiveness, and those staff who ask forgiveness for those moments when they might snap back at a patient or family member.  I have witnessed the extraordinary goodness of nurses who will sit with people who are facing death alone- without anyone else to support them – standing as the faithful looking on with kindness and compassion. 

On this day we recognize a different kind of king, a Good Shepherd who taught us how to live and how to die.  Let us renew our resolve to follow that example, to live with risk and kindness, to die with compassion and forgiveness.

Faith is both a frail and a mighty thing.  It can hold us through the storms of life, and again it can be easily lost.  Faith.  Easter invites us to believe what seems way too good to be true. In fact, two of the lectionary readings this Easter carried that theme.  Click on the links below to read them...
Isaiah 65:17-25
Luke 24:1-12

First Isaiah repeats that God is about to do something new – in fact, to create a new heavens and a new earth.  Totally new.  Everything changed and different.  The people he was talking to needed that, they longed for a different world.   Isaiah has persuaded them to return to Israel from their exile in Babylon, but it’s been years and still the land is scarred by war and the temple remains in ruins.  The people are discouraged, exhausted, and despairing.  Can you imagine hearing these unbelievable promises given what they saw all around them?  They must have thought Isaiah was kind of crazy, these promises totally unbelievable.  They still seem unbelievable.

He says there will be no more pain, no more crying, no more children dying.  Everyone will be able to live to 100 years old and better.  People who are 100 years old will be considered young, even!

Those who build houses will be able to live in them, and those who plant and take care of crops will be able to eat them. Even today, those who do the actual work of building houses may not be able to afford to live in them, and those who labor in the fields may not have enough to eat.  

The children we bring into the world will not ever face calamity.  God will hear and respond to us even before we ask.  Lions will stop bothering lambs, and the serpents of the world will eat dust.  That's what happened in Eden, so Isaiah seems to be saying this new world will be a new Eden, a paradise.

He says our days will be like the days of a tree.  I’m not sure what that means but I like the sound of it.  Long days, calm and serene.  
   
It all sounds good, too good to be true – too good to believe in.  But that’s the thing about faith – it invites us to look beyond what IS and even what we think can possibly be.  It asks us to expect the unexpected, to believe the unbelievable.

We see the difficulty and the joy of that in Luke’s account of that first Easter morning.  There are the women, going to the tomb in their grief, prepared to anoint the body of Jesus.  They don't know how they could roll back that big rock.  Even that did not seem possible, but they went on anyway, going on faith. 

They arrive to find it already moved.  At the time, they would have thought grave robbers had been there. I’m sure they were worried, thinking maybe someone had disrespected the body of their beloved teacher.  They look in and it’s worse than they feared – the body is gone. I’m sure they thought someone had taken it, and that would make their grief even worse - not being able to give Jesus' body a proper burial.  I’m sure they did not expect what happened next.  Who would? We might, having heard this story before, but if we place ourselves in their place, imagine our surprise at what happens next.

Two men in dazzling clothes appear, out of thin air!  I would have bowed down and hid my face, too.  As startling as their appearance is, what they say is even further beyond believability than what Isaiah said to their despairing Jewish ancestors.  They say that the women should not look for the living among the dead.  

You can imagine their thinking, “What?  But he is dead.  What was dead cannot come back to life.”  Then maybe they remembered how Jesus brought Lazarus back to life.  They were with him when he did that, and again at the dinner in Bethany the week before - the one where Mary Magdalene anointed Jesus with expensive oil.  Lazarus had been there, too.  Maybe some hope began to glimmer about the corners of their grief-stricken minds.

The men remind them of something Jesus said, which they did not understand at the time.  He had predicted all this, the men say.  Don’t you remember?  "Oh yes, he said he must die, be buried, and come back to life."  More glimmering around the corners, maybe a few shafts of light breaking through the heavy curtain of grief.  What was it the men said earlier?  “He is not here, he is risen.”  What if?  No, it could not be, it’s too good to be true. But what if it is true?  Angels heralded his birth, why not his return to life?  These are faithful women, remember.

You can imagine their steps quickening as they return to the room where the men sit.  They want to share this good news, the dawn breaking in their minds, hearts, souls.  They burst into the room and tell the men, perhaps in gasping breaths, in bits and pieces, what happened!  How joyful they must have been at that point!

And guess what?  The men don't believe the women.  They think it is "an idle tale."  I don't know about you, but it seems some things don't change, much.   Remember that it's hard to believe the unbelievable.  People do not spontaneously rise from the dead.  But maybe they believed, just a little.  Peter goes to see for himself, and when he sees that what the women said was true, he begins to believe as well.  When we hear this story and imagine ourselves there, we share the amazement of Peter and the women.  We may find ourselves wanting to believe what seems too good to be true.

Both of these readings, the reading about a new Eden from Isaiah and the Resurrection story in Luke’s gospel, ask us to believe what is difficult to believe given what we know of the world.  Isaiah asks us to believe there can be a world without grief, pain, and suffering, where there is fairness, justice, and peace. This is hard to believe when all around us we see otherwise.  Luke asks us to believe that life wins when all our experience tells us that death always wins.  Both readings asd us to believe that there is hope beyond distress and suffering, renewal beyond destruction, and life beyond death.  

Scholar David Ewart says the Resurrection asks us to “trust the amazing void” that sometimes opens up at our feet, a void that faith can fill.  At times we all are in need of resurrection, and at such times it helps to remember that God fulfills promises, often in better ways than we can possibly imagine.  God is always creating something new- life breaking through death, joy overcoming sorrow, love defeating hatred, fairness wiping out injustice. 

We must have faith that this is possible, but we also have to watch for it to happen in ways we do not expect.  There’s a story about a man caught in a flood.  You may have heard it.  His neighbors come by and offer to help him evacuate, but he says, “No, God will save me, I have faith.” 

         The water rises and he has to retreat to the second floor, praying to God to rescue him.  Some people come by in a boat and offer him a ride, but he says, “No, God will save me, I have faith.”  The water climbs still higher and he has to go up on the roof.  He does, still praying to God to rescue him.  A helicopter comes by and they send down a ladder to help him escape, but he shouts, “No, I’m waiting for God to rescue me.”  Alas, the floodwaters still rise and he perishes.  Once in the afterlife, he has a little talk with God.  He says, “Why didn’t you rescue me?  I had faith in you, and you let me down.” 

God says, “Well, first I sent neighbors who offered to help you evacuate. Then I sent those people in the boat, and finally I send the helicopter.  What more did you expect?”  I guess the guy expected a hand to come down out of heaven and pick him up.

It is important to have faith in better a better world,  and to know it may happen in ways we can't imagine.  We also have to work with God to make that happen.  We can’t expect God to do it alone – that would be rather lazy and irresponsible of us.  I believe God wants us to help create this something new.  And when we do, when we work toward that new world, our eyes may adapt to the signs of it coming-to-be: healing coming to someone in pain, repair and restoration after devastation. We may see it in new ways to prevent infant deaths and to keep all children healthy and safe. We may notice it in people working to feed those who are hungry, to offer drink to those who are thirsty, and to build houses for people who cannot afford them.  We may see people live to a healthy old age –through practicing living healthy lives and maybe through cures for diseases that once were fatal.  That happens all the time, these days.

We may see it in moments, and maybe even hours and days of like trees – serene and quiet.  We may see it in those who work for peace for all the world. The new world is coming to be, and we can help make that happen.  The firs step is to believe it can, and to keep that vision in mind as we do the little things that shape it into being.

And resurrection?  Oh yes, we can see that as well.  We can see that life breaks through what seems like death, all around us and in many ways – and this can strengthen our belief in the resurrection, in what seems too good to be true.

Life breaks through. 
Time and time again,
life breaks through what seems like death.
Even in the heart of winter,
Light breaks through
Life breaks through
And unseen growth occurs
Beneath the frozen ground.
Some plants need winter
In order to flower in spring.

Life breaks through,
Even through stone.
Laurel trees have the strength
To break through stone
In order to sustain their vibrant lives,
Life breaks through.
Even seemingly frail lives
Can survive in harshest circumstances.
Life is abundant and strong
It thrives in unusual places,
Even in the desert.

Life shines through thresholds,
Even the threshold of death.
It blooms and grows and changes
Through the stream of time.
Life breaks through walls we build to keep it out
And it emerges from prisons meant to keep life in.

Life breaks through, shines through
The world all around us,
And it breaks through in us as well
In the forms of faith, hope, love, and joy.

Life breaks through, again and again.
And so we celebrate Easter –
The triumph of life over death,
Of goodness over wrongdoing,
And of love over hatred and intolerance.

Let us celebrate the too-good-to-be-trues of this world, having faith in them.  Let us go forth to celebrate the Resurrection, the hope of the world.

To anoint means to smear or rub with an ointment, lotion, or oil.  It also means to bless or to make holy.  I work in a hospital, where many people anoint patients with healing ointments on a daily basis, but others of us are anointed for all sorts of other purposes.  The readings I will contemplate today both have to do with anointing.  The first is from Isaiah 43:16-21

The second is from the gospel of John.  Before I give you the link I have to admit that I struggle with this gospel.  At the time this gospel was written, the Jesus-followers were splitting off from the rest of the Jewish community.  There was a lot of bad feeling on both sides and it comes through in this gospel in “anti-Semitism” or anti-Jewish feeling. 

This is unfortunate because for centuries after some people would use the anti-Semitism in the Christian gospels as an excuse for prejudice, hatred, terrible violence, and oppression against Jewish people, the ancestral people of Jesus. I think this would have made him both sad and angry, because he worked against oppression of all kinds. One positive message we can take from this is to careful about what we do or say, because it can cause ripples and consequences we never intended.  I don’t think John intended to perpetuate centuries of persecution of Jewish people.

 And still, I struggle with John’s gospel.  Today’s reading the gospel keeps talking about the Jews as if they are somehow separate or other than Jesus and his followers, who were all Jewish!  Jesus taught in synagogues and temples!  So I have changed to wording to reflect that, while Jesus lived, this separation did not really exist. 


John 12:1-11
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him.  Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.)

Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.   You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” 

When the great crowd learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, 11since it was on account of him that many of Jewish people were deserting them and were believing in Jesus.

Anointing was the first thing that struck me in these readings.  When I looked at them I had just read the 23rd Psalm (The Lord is my Shepherd) to a patient and the words “He anoints my head with oil, my cup overflows” jumped out at me.  For the first time I realized there was an anointing there – an anointing that seems to have a healing quality to it.  That is one purpose of anointing, to heal.   

Anointing can also mean to empower a person to do something, or to recognize the power they already possess.  In scripture kings, priests, and prophets were anointed.  It was a ceremony or ritual that signaled a change, some threshold they had crossed into a calling.

Christ literally means “anointed one.”  For what was he anointed?  In Luke’s gospel Jesus goes into a synagogue early in his ministry and reads from the prophet Isaiah, chapter 62, 18“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, 19to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  Jesus says, quite clearly, that this is what he has come to do. 

It’s interesting that he quotes the prophet Isaiah because I think the reading from Isaiah for today also talks about anointing.  Isaiah describes the Jewish people as anointed by God.  Speaking for God, he says, “21the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.”   That is our purpose.  We are anointed to declare praise for the Sacred.

So anointing can mean many things.  It can have a healing meaning. It can be about being called for a purpose. It can be about power – the power of a king, or of a priest, or of a prophet, or of a people- the power to priase.

Jesus proclaims himself to be anointed, as he is in this gospel reading.  In the other gospels there are also stories of a woman anointing Jesus, but it’s his head she anoints – this is how a king was anointed.  In John’s gospel Mary anoints the feet of Jesus, which was only done in anointing a dead body.

Barbara Brown Taylor, one of my favorite preachers, says that in doing this Mary is being a prophet, foretelling that Jesus will soon die.  Perhaps at some level she knew that would be her only chance, because when she and others came to anoint his dead body they would find only an empty tomb.

So all kinds of people can be anointed - healed, empowered, honored. My question is, have you ever been anointed?  Are you being anointed for some purpose that is growing in you?

Perhaps you have been anointed for the purpose of healing – someone has anointed you in order to heal you.  Or maybe you have been anointed others, to heal them.  Maybe since childhood you have wanted to help heal people who are suffering, as a doctor or nurse, or in some other way.  Have you ever been anointed?  Are you being anointed?  Sometimes it is something that grows slowly in you.

Perhaps you have been anointed for a kingly sort of purpose, like being a manager or being responsible for a number of people.  You may have always wanted that role, or the role may have chosen you.  Have you ever been anointed?  Are you being anointed, called to some different purpose in life?

Perhaps you have been anointed for some priestly purpose, to recognize through ritual the transitions in life.  Perhaps you have always felt the calling to help people in the transition from life to death – it’s a special calling.  Have you ever been anointed?  Are you being anointed?

Maybe you have been anointed to act as a prophet – to speak against injustice or to look into the future.  Maybe that flame has always been in you or maybe circumstances pushed you to the point where you had to stand up and speak.  Have you ever been anointed?  Are you being anointed?

Perhaps you have been anointed for the purpose of holding up and praising the sacred, the holy, what is most important in life.  That is an anointing anyone, in any role, can share.  Have you ever felt anointed for that purpose?  Are you being anointed for it now? 

If you have ever felt anointed for some purpose, you know it can be challenging and even dangerous, at times.  It was for Jesus.  Isaiah reassures us that even in those wilderness times we will find restoring waters that will refresh our spirits.  It is important to take advantage of those oasis times, so that we can return to our work.  Anointing does not mean driving ourselves into the ground.

And so being anointed can be comforting as well- imagine the comfort Mary offered Jesus in anointing his feet as she did.  She was saying, in her actions, that though he was going to die soon he would be surrounded by love - generous, humble love.

So I pray for all who are anointed and exhausted to receive the anointing of rest.  I pray for all who are called to an anointing, for the courage to take up that call.  I pray for all of us called to uphold the Sacred and praise what is important in life, that we may go through our days with praise in our hearts.

We Are Your Hands                   By Tess Baumberger

We are your hands upon this earth.
May we touch each other with gentle strength,
Offering healing, comfort, expressing love.

Your arms are our arms.
Give us strength to build the world
According to the blueprints of compassion.

We are your voice unto the nations.
May we speak words of comfort, hope,
And sing bravely songs of justice.

Your feet are our feet.
Guide them on the paths of righteousness
And when we become lost, find us.

We are your body on this earth.
Renew us who are your acting in the world
That we may experience your joy in the doing.

In the gospel of Luke Chapter 15 Jesus cautions against self-righteousness in  three parables.  Each portrays God as welcoming what was lost and is found, which symbolize people the righteous would shun as sinners.  Jesus lives this value in his ministry, teaching and working amongst the outcasts of his day – lepers, Samaritans, and tax collectors.  Of course, the righteous criticized him for  doing this, and that is what prompted these three parables. 

The first two parables - the lost sheep and the lost coin - are pretty straightforward and not as challenging as the third.  That may be because in the third, the parable of the Prodigal Son, we’re talking about people who act in selfish or resentful ways, as most of us do at times. That means it can cut close to home, and make us uncomfortable. 

We probably don't often act as selfishly as the Prodigal Son does.  To understand just how selfish the Prodigal Son acts, you have to understand the culture of the times.  Then, as now, you could not inherit until someone had died.  When he asks for his inheritance when his father is still alive, he is disrespecting his father, in a big way.  He’s basically saying, “You are dead to me.”  This must have been heartbreaking to his father, who in all his actions shows himself to be an unusually loving and forgiving person.  His father does as his son asks, and his son takes off.

 To understand the rest of the story, you have to know how shamefully the Prodigal Son acts in the view of his time.  He quickly loses all his money to Gentiles.  At the time, when a Jewish person to lose money to Gentiles it brought shame upon a person’s family and even onto his village.  In the story the degradation shows in the young man taking a job working for Gentiles, who are raising pigs, because pigs are considered unclean under Jewish law.  And then not only does he work with pigs, he actually wants to take their food. 

 He is so degraded, it’s hard to imagine something similar in our society. Finally he hits rock bottom and decides to go back and throw himself on his father’s mercy.  We don’t know if he has truly repented – the fact that he comes up with a speech which he repeats to his father suggests perhaps he has not.  This does not seem to matter to his father. What matters is that his son is alive and has returned to him.

Imagine someone you love engaging in the worst, most shameful behavior you can imagine, and then returning to you.  How would you respond? Earlier I mentioned that the Prodigal Son brought shame on both his family and his village. Alyce McKenzie says that at the time if such a person tried to return to the village, the village would perform a ceremony called “gesasah” – the people, including the family, would surround the person, break jars full of grain, and declare this person cut off from the village.  In the normal course of things back then, the Prodigal Son would be shunned, cast out. That's what the people hearing Jesus tell this story would have expected.

Knowing this, you start to see that having a celebration to welcome back his son, is a highly unusual way for a father to respond.  Shocking, even - it would have been shocking to those who first heard this story. Running out to meet his son is unusual – it would be considered humiliating for a dignified family man to do such a thing (even today, in some places).  Alyce McKenzie suggests the he runs out to greet his son in order to protect him from that terrible casting-out ceremony.  He sets aside his own dignity to save his son.

The story of how the father welcomes the prodigal son would  have seemed so outrageous as to be unbelievable to the people of Jesus' time.  Be telling this story, Jesus is saying that God's love and mercy is even further beyond our human comprehension because the father in this story represents the grace and love of God.   In a reading from last week Isaiah says, speaking for God, “My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways… For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” 

Recall that what provoked these three parables was the righteous criticizing Jesus for going about with people they condemned as unclean or as sinners.  In the story of the Prodigal Son, the older brother represents this point of view.  Those who criticize Jesus are acting like the older brother. And here is the tough part of that story – Divine grace and love can provoke resentment among those who consider themselves to be righteous. Have you ever felt that sort of righteous indignation, that sort of resentment?  I have.

Resentment is a painful feeling.  There is a saying today that resentment is a poison you drink hoping the other person will die.  It does not hurt the other person as much as it hurts you – it harms your heart and your spirit.  Because we can easily fall into this feeling of righteous resentment, it’s important to consider how the loving father acts toward the older son when that son pours out his bitterness and resentment.  

The father acts in a loving and kind way – saying that all he has belongs to this son, who will always be with him.  He responds in a compassionate, grace-filled manner.  Clearly he wants the older son to join in the party, to set aside his own resentment.  After all, the cause of celebration is that the Prodigal Son has come to himself, turned around, confessed and been forgiven.  He who was thought to be dead has come back to life. 

The older son has some valid points- why no celebration for his years of righteousness?  We don't know whether or not the father sees that point, and realizes he should celebrate his elder son's faithfulness.  We don't know if he does that but given that he is a good father, we can guess that he would.  We don’t know whether the older son will overcome his resentment and join in the celebration.  What would it take for love to overcome resentment and the wish for fairness?  

It seems there are two different messages for two different target audiences in the familiar story of the Prodigal Son.  The first message is aimed at the righteous – and the message is to practice humility, and to free ourselves from the terrible burden of resentment by forgiving, by practicing compassion.  

The second message is geared towards the unrighteous (who were also listening to this story). This message is that incomprehensible grace and forgiveness are there for the taking and follow us everywhere.  When we turn and accept grace and forgiveness, they free us from the terrible burdens of shame and guilt.  The common message is that there are ways to free ourselves of spiritual burdens, and both have to do with loving grace.  

Scholar Paul Myhre says that grace always comes first.  He says it is grace the prompts us to repent, resolving to turn and walk the other way. This means the grace was there when the Prodigal Son “came to himself,” and returned to his home.  The three parables tell us that even if we are lost, or have turned our backs and left, the grace is there anyway – for both the righteous and the unrighteous. As unfair as that may seem to the righteous, there it is.  

Grace is what helps the righteous release resentment  Grace comes first, and because it frees us I believe this means we are always, potentially, free.   It is up to us.  Will we turn to it, confess our errors and repent, returning to a home where we are loved and forgiven?   Will those who always were home turn to grace, using it to forgive so we can then join in the celebration?  Either way, the message of the gospel is that freedom is available to us through grace.  So come, let us join the banquet.  Let us return home.

 We all know that terrible things happen in this world.  Last December we witnessed violence against innocent children and their teachers.  Almost every day we hear of terrorism and of political upheavals. We know the suffering caused by racism and other types of prejudice.  We see people harmed by natural disasters.   We know the realities of poverty, famine, disease.  

Those are large, global tragedies, but  we all know that terrible things can happen in our own lives.  Some of us may experience violence in our own neighborhoods, even in our own homes.  Some of us may have been the victims of racism, political oppression or terrorism. We may have suffered as the result of natural disasters, poverty, famine, and disease.  Terrible things can happen no matter how good you are, no matter how faithful, no matter how hard you pray.  This can lead some of us to doubt and to despair.  What are we to make of this?  How do we cope with this reality in our spiritual and religious lives?

Here are two scripture readings that address these questions, two of the readings for March 3rd, 2013.

Isaiah 55:1-13
Luke 13:1-9

This gospel reading begins with people telling Jesus about a terrible event - some Galileans put to death in an atrocious way.  The people who told Jesus about this were probably seeking comfort.  Judging my Jesus' response, it seems they had already comforted themselves by saying, “Those Galileans must have done something bad, so God let this bad thing happen We are good.  Nothing like that could happen to us.” 

This is an old idea rooted in the ancient covenant (a set of promises) that God established with Jewish people. Basically, if they followed the rules, God would protect and provide for them.  If they didn’t, all bets were off.  This was a satisfying theology so long as things went well - it meant they were good and righteous.   

But then disaster struck.  Foreign powers defeated them, destroyed the temple and forced Jewish leaders to go live in Babylon.  They had to live among the very people who had ruined their holy of holies, the very people who had killed their sons, brothers, fathers.  Given the belief in that covenant, people began to question whether they had done something wrong, to deserve such a tragedy.  It is hard to imagine they could have done anything to deserve such a fate.

We still see this religious reasoning today. When something terrible happens to others we wonder if God is punishing them, and when something terrible happens to us, we wonder if God is punishing us. Why is this idea still around, so many centuries later?  I can think of three reasons. 

First, we want to think we can prevent terrible events.  If they only happen to bad people, then by being good we think we can prevent them.  It gives us a feeling of control in a world that can often feel chaotic and out of control. 

Second, we are meaning-makers.  We look to find meaning in the world and in the events of our lives.  Whenever something happens, especially if it is negative, we want to understand why it happened – what does it mean? We want things to make sense in a world that includes meaningless tragedies.

Finally, I think we want the world to be just, with good people rewarded and bad people punished.  And of course we want to be counted among the good, feeling smug that we are better than others and so favored by God.  We want justice in a world that can sometimes (or often) be unjust.  

It makes sense that this ancient religious idea persists.  However, it has two unfortunate consequences.  First, it casts guilt on people who most likely have done nothing wrong and blames the victims for the trauma or tragedy.  Surely no one could think the children and teachers in Newtown, their families and friends and parents, did anything to deserve such a terrible thing.  It seems wrong to suggest such a thing.

The other problem is that this theology makes God out to be a terribly cruel, not at all like the God of my experience, or the merciful God in our reading from Isaiah.  This theology makes God out to be some sort of monster, when many people experience the Sacred as quite the opposite.

Returning to consider the gospel reading, people are disturbed about what happened to the Galileans and thinking they deserved such torment.  Jesus sets them straight right away, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you;” 

Jesus says the same thing about the eighteen people who died when a tower fell - they were no worse than anyone else.  He says that the victims of disaster were no worse than anyone else, including those who asked him about what happened.  He denies that old theology emphatically, and he denies it twice.

He does tell those around him to look to their own spiritual health, especially if they are congratulating themselves that they are somehow better than the victims of both tragedies.  If they are doing that, they had better get right to the work of repenting.  I think Jesus is saying that it’s spiritually deadly to believe others suffer because of something they did and that you are better than them if you suffer less than they.  If you’re tempted to believe that, start repenting.

And if you think about it, he’s also saying, “If you are suffering, please do not believe that God is punishing you.”  Now sometimes we suffer as a consequence of our own actions – like when we take a stupid risk and hurt ourselves.  I’m not talking about those times.  Those things are our fault I’m talking about not blaming our selves for suffering that has nothing to do with what we did.

So today’s gospel reading asks us to consider whether we blame ourselves or others when we’re sick, hurt, or in pain.  Do we see this as a punishment from God?  Jesus says it isn’t, and if we think that way we need to think again.  I believe God is merciful, slow to anger and abounding in compassion, as the scripture says.  I believe God never wants anyone to suffer.  On the contrary, I believe that God is with us in our suffering, to offer us comfort if we ask.

After this rebuke, Jesus goes on to tell a symbolic story about a fig tree in a garden.  The tree has not produced any fruit.  I wonder if this tree might represent those spiritually barren people who blame victims for tragedy.  Such people, like the tree, do not bear the fruits of the spirit. What are the fruits of the spirit?  In his letter to the Galatians Paul says the fruit of the spirit “is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” Such fruits could not possibly come from believing people who suffer deserve that suffering.

However, the parable suggests that can change.  The gentle gardener says, "Perhaps we need to dig around the roots."  I see this is rooting out that harsh theology.  Dig that up, get it out of the garden.  How can a tree bear fruit with that strangling its roots?  And then put a little compost around that starving tree.  Maybe when we break that oppressive theology down it can become a compost that that nurtures life.  Then we’ll see if that tree doesn’t bear some fruit.  Let’s give the tree another chance.

Given this view of things, it is no coincidence that one of the readings paired with this one is that selection from Isaiah.  In the gospel there’s a barren fig tree and in Isaiah an enormous feast.   At this point in Isaiah, the terrible thing happened a generation ago - the destruction of the temple and the exile.  

Early on Isaiah said this happened because they had strayed from the covenant, but here he’s saying something different.  I wonder if suffering changed him.  It can have that effect – it can soften people.  I see that movement in scripture – the more the Jewish people suffered, the more compassionate they became and the more their theology changed.  You start to see an increasing belief that God is merciful, a Good Shepherd who walks with you through the valley of the shadow of death.

In this reading from Isaiah the first generation has died, and a new generation is being released from exile. They can go back – but they are used to living in Babylon.  They have never even seen Jerusalem.  Isaiah is trying to persuade them to return to Israel and rebuild the temple.  He’s tried just about every means of persuading them, and here he promises if they go back it will be like such a feast, so that even those who have nothing will have plenty to eat.  

He promises that God will renew the covenant and raise them up from their lowly position. He assures them that even those who have strayed from the covenant will be granted mercy.  There is life after tragedy, Isaiah assures us.  There is forgiveness after wrongdoing.  It must have been hard for the old guard to believe this so Isaiah (speaking for God) explains, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”  There is a higher truth. It is always better to be compassionate.  There is a more evolved theology – that God never wills our suffering, but instead is the gentle companion.

This is good news, indeed.  It frees all who are oppressed from any belief that they somehow deserve that oppression. It frees all who suffer tragedies and traumas from believing God is punishing them.  It frees those who believe others deserve the evil that befalls them to grow more compassionate hearts and souls.  It frees all of us to become like fig trees that bear good fruit, the fruits of the spirit - love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  And when we bear such spiritual fruit, it is like a feast laid out before us, a feast we can all share.  

In the words of the poet May Sarton, Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers. 

In seminary I learned how to do scripture-based preaching, and now I find myself called upon to do that very thing.  Here is the meditation I offered on the readings for February 24th. First, it would be helpful to look at the readings - just click!

Psalm 27
Luke 13: 31-35

Courage

As Luke tells it, Jesus has been in Jerusalem for some time, healing and teaching.  He’s just told his followers to strive to enter through the narrow door in order to be saved.  In Matthew 7:14 Jesus says that the way is straight and the door (or gate) is narrow.  So the phrase, “on the straight and narrow” comes from scripture!  And Jesus has just told them to keep to the straight and narrow, when some Pharisees come to see him.

At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”   
Now in the other gospels the Pharisees are portrayed as the bad guys, but in Luke not so much.  Some are portrayed as followers or at least sympathetic.  So this is likely a kindly warning rather than any kind of set-up or deception. Jesus responds

He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, 
Herod considered himself a lion but Jesus calls him a “fox.” Actually, the original Greek the word could also be translated as “jackal,” which seems like even more of an insult.  Jesus really had that opinion of Herod and many would have agreed, but few would have said it aloud in public. You can imagine some nervous laugher in the crowd.  It was an act of courage, if not bravado.  So Jesus goes on to ask the Pharisees to go tell Herod….

‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow 
William Loder suggests that when Jesus talks about the healing he’s done it’s like saying, “What threat am I?  Who’d want to kill someone who’s doing good work?”  However, Jesus and others knew that he was doing much more than that – he was inciting a spiritual revolution, teaching people that they could be spiritually free no matter what their circumstances.  This was a subversive message – one that would be threatening both to Herod and to the Roman Empire, which was pretty unstable in that region at that time. There was a lot of unrest, many uprisings against Rome.  

and on the third day I finish my work.
Throughout the bible, “In three days” was a way of saying “in a short time.” He’s saying “don’t worry, I’ll be out of here soon” but he’s also saying he’ll do this in his own time, after he’s done with the work he came to do – teaching and healing.  This is another bit of courage or bravado.

The part about “finishing his work” can be translated from Greek as “I will be perfected,” or “I am being matured,” but “I will be finished” may be a better translation.  It has a double meaning  - that he’ll be done with his work and also, it recognizes that Herod is likely to finish him off. Is he afraid?  Probably - maybe that's where the bravado comes from.  Courage is not the absence of fear, however.

So he’s saying something like, “I know what you’re up to Herod, you old jackal, but this is my work and I’m going to do it.  You can’t rush me."

Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’ 
This indicates that he knows in order to be safe he has to do his work outside Jerusalem.  It also shows he knows his days are numbered, that he expects to die in Jerusalem, as other prophets have done.  The Greek word translated as “prophet”  means, “one who tells the truth confidently before others.”  

Anyone who speaks truth to power is in harm’s way.  We know that – think of the assassination of more recent prophetic people like Ghandi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.   They stirred things up, too. Jesus knew what happened to many of the other truth-tellers who came before him.  He knew what happened to John the Baptist – Herod had him killed. Jesus knows that he’s likely to be next.  How does he feel about that?

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! 
He seems to feel sad, angry, and also protective.  He switches from a sort of despairing bravado to a lament for the beloved city of Jerusalem.  Another meaning of the word “prophet” is one who can foresee things.  Perhaps he foresaw what would happen a few decades after his death.  After yet another political uprising the Romans destroyed the temple and drove the Jewish people from the cherished homeland. It was called the Dispersion.  

Jesus takes up the language of the psalms and of past prophets when he compares himself to a hen gathering chicks.  The image of God’s people being sheltered under wings is common in psalms but usually they are eagle’s wings.  The hen is a much more humble image.  Why would Jesus use that?

It could be he is contrasting the difference in political power between him and Herod – a difference as great as that between a jackal and a hen.  And we all know what a fox or jackal does to a hen. We all know how powerless the hen is to protect her chicks. Of course, she tries to protect them anyway.  So it seems in this lament Jesus saying, as much as he would want to protect that city, he knows he cannot do it.

The great Episcopal preacher Barbara Brown Taylor says “If you have ever loved someone you could not protect, then you understand the depth of Jesus’ lament. All you can do is open your arms. You cannot make anyone walk into them. Meanwhile, this is the most vulnerable posture in the world --wings spread, breast exposed -- but if you mean what you say, then this is how you stand." Jesus did.  He stood, despite fear, prepared to try to protect others. So even in this lament, Jesus is showing courage.

Jesus cannot protect Jerusalem from what is surely coming, and not even the kindliest Pharisees can protect Jesus from what is coming.  Perhaps his lament is not only for Jerusalem but also for himself, and for the prophets who have gone before him.  Like him they told the truth, pointing to the straight path and the narrow gate, but most did not listen.  

See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.”
The passage ends on a more positive note.  This is in fact what happens when Jesus re-enters Jerusalem.  The crowds chorus “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord,” when he returns on what we know as Palm Sunday – which we will celebrate in a few weeks’ time.


So there is a lot in this short reading.  Jesus is saying that he has more work to do, and that he knows what's coming.  He's saying he has the courage to come back and fact it. What enormous courage, to face his fears, to face his death.

We can learn from this example in our own lives. We can face what needs to be faced with as much courage as we can muster.  We can go about the work we need to do even when disaster seems to loom.  It takes spiritual strength to do those thins, but together we can find that strength.  

Let me close with a prayer

Oh God who sees into our hearts and knows our deepest thoughts, we ask that you comfort us when we cannot protect people we love from suffering and from harm.  Give us hope, and grand us courage to face our fears, to face our troubles, assured that you go with us even to the deepest valley.

Spirit who wills that the world become more just, more loving, and more kind – who wants a revolution of the spirit, give us courage to be a part of that revolution in whatever way we can, whatever our circumstances.  And please God, protect our prophets.

In Psalm 91 God promises that angels will bear us up so we will not so much as dash a foot against a stone.  God promises to honor us, deliver and protect us, to be with us in times of trouble, and to grant us long life and salvation.  All we have to do in return is to love and to honor God's name.  This is simple, but not always easy.

Of course it's easy to believe these words when things are going well – when we witness those angels bearing us up, when we feel honored, rescued, when our lives seem long and we feel saved.  Faith is easy in the good times.

But any of us has times when our faith is tried and tested.  There are times when, no matter how well we try to love and honor what is holy, we not only do we stub our toes, we trip, fall, and hurt ourselves.  There are times when we feel far from being honored, rescued, deliver, and protected. We are hurt, ill, and feel the absence rather than the presence of God.  These are the times when faith is difficult, when it is hard to trust these appealing words. So what are we to do?

To answer that question, let me turn to the story of Jesus being tested in Luke 4:1-13.  It starts with him testing himself, going out to be alone in the desert, fasting for forty days.  This time of trial echoes the 40 years his ancestors spent in the desert.  The number 40 keeps cropping up in the ancient scriptures because it has a special meaning.  Forty is associated with a period of trial or testing followed by the fulfillment of a promise - 40 years in the desert followed by the Promised Land, or 40 days in the desert followed by a powerful ministry of healing and courageous truth-telling.

Given that he has just been testing himself for forty days,  Jesus would seem to be a weakened state.  In comes the devil, which you can think of as representing temptation.  What a set of temptations!  First is the temptation of food – “turn this rock into some bread.”  Ever been on a diet?  Have you ever fasted?  Imagine you could turn rocks into bread!  That would be pretty tempting.  But Jesus doesn’t stoop to parlor tricks, a misuse of his powers.  He may have been starving physically, but he has spent those forty days nurturing his spiritual strength.  He turns aside this temptation.

Then comes the temptation of riches and power.  Now that is a mighty temptation. We know that when people give in to such temptation, it goes pretty badly.  In keeping with his ancestral covenant, described so beautifully in Psalm 91, Jesus says he honors and loves only God.

And then comes the third temptation - to test promises like those in the psalm by throwing himself from a cliff.  Once again, Jesus refuses, saying he will not test his God in such a way.  This is a statement of respect, again honoring God’s nature and God’s name. We may know how it is to test the divine in a similar way, saying, “If you’re really there, then do this, or that.  Prove it to me.”  Jesus gives a more humble example.

How good to see an example of resisting such temptations!  How much better our world would be if we also had the spiritual strength to resist the temptations to misuse our abilities, the temptations of worldly power and riches, the temptation to test God with a set of ultimata.  Consider for a moment how this story might speak to us in our own lives.

What could this story offer us when our faith is tested and tried?  One preacher says this story about Jesus being tempted tells us that trust and faith in God do not ensure a life free of difficulty, pain, deprivation, or illness. So many in the hospital I serve know this all too well.  If even faithful people like Jesus suffer, is it any wonder that we do as well?

You see, I don’t believe Psalm 91 promises protection from physical harm, illness, pain, deprivation.  I think it may be about protection from spiritual pain, illness, harm, and deprivation.  This happens, too, of course.  Perhaps the most important promise in Psalm 91 is that the Holy will be with us through all those sorts of trials, which can mitigate some of that suffering. If in the midst of trial and testing we strive to love and honor what is most sacred, our spirits may make it through, whatever the physical outcome.

And yet we suffer in body, mind, heart, and/or spirit we do wonder.  Often we wonder, "Why?  Why me? Why now?" The Buddhist tradition tells us that suffering is part of the nature of our world.  Rabbi Kushner (author of When Bad Things Happen to Good People) agrees with this assessment and suggests that the question should perhaps be “How?” rather than, “Why?”  How can I get through this time of trial and testing?

We have all known people who deal with poorly with adversity - who complain, or take out their pain and frustration on others – even hurt them.  We may know such people, and at times we may BE such people.  We may also know people who cope with it amazingly well, who manage to be patient and kind despite being in pain – who even keep a sense of humor.  In doing this they honor the divine spark in those around them, and in themselves.  We may know such people – and at times we may choose to BE such people.  The choice is ours – will we have the spiritual strength to make that choice?

Christians are now observing the 40 days of Lent.  We can use these 40 days to wrestle with those realities of pain and suffering, those desert times when the holy seems so far removed from us.  We can use those 40 days to build our spiritual strength to resist temptation and to withstand the harsher realities of our world.  We can remind ourselves that God does not guarantee us an absence of suffering – only that God’s grace and love can help bear us through it spiritually.   In this Lenten season, let us work to strengthen our spirits so that we too can withstand the trials and testing we encounter in our lives.

Prayer

Source of All, you led your people through the wilderness and brought them to the Promised Land. Guide us now, so that we may walk safely through the wilderness of this world toward the life you alone can give. Amen.

This meditation is based on two of the scriptures for Sunday February 17th.  Here are links to the readings.

Psalm 91
Luke 1:4-13

Recently I read the story of the rich man who asks Jesus what he has to do in order to inherit eternal life.  Jesus tells him to keep the commandments.  The man says he has done so all of his life.  In Mark's gospel Jesus looks at this man in a loving way and then says he has to sell all he has and give it to the poor in order to be a true follower.  The man walks away, grieving.

Jesus turns to his followers and says, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God!" (Mark 10.25). This is not a happy story but I smiled remembering first thinking about it.  I was both an imaginative and a literal child who once spent a whole afternoon looking for the "elbow grease" so I could scrub the ceramic coffee pot clean for my mom. Eventually I called her at work to ask where it was, frustrated I couldn't find what she always said she used to perform that miraculous feat.  She still likes to tell that story.

So there I was squirming between my parents on a hard wooden pew in St. Peter's Catholic Church in Colman, South Dakota when I first heard this story.  Arrested by its imagery, I remembered a trip to the Black Hills to visit our extended family.  During that trip we went to see a impressive geological formation known as "the Needles."  I could picture a camel passing through that needle's eye.  You'd just have to get a crane to get the camel up there but it could happen, right?  Entranced by the pictures in my head, you could say I missed the point of the story.  Or maybe not.  My God was as gentle and loving as Jesus was in the story, so I thought a rich person could make it into God's kingdom.  Even then, apparently, I had Universalist leanings!

This past weekend Psalm 8 was in my daily reading. It reminded me of a poem I wrote a few years ago using a translation I now cannot find anywhere, "O God, my God, how wonderful your name in all the earth."

How important is it that we name the Divine? Religions differ with respect to this question. In the Jewish tradition, one does not usually write"God" out of respect for what words cannot capture. Islam has 99 names for the divine, just short of 100. I heard this is to remind us that no one can ever completely know or understand Source. Christianity has litanies of different names for Mary, but I do not remember any for God.

My poetic take on the name of the Divine suggests names that are images, interactions, and sounds rather than words. Here is my poem.  I cannot figure out how to keep the original formatting so have put forward slashes (/) were the line breaks should be. Feel free to use it if you like, but please do attribute it to me.

Resounding By Tess Baumberger

“Oh God, my God, how wonderful your name in all the earth.” Psalm 8:1

It is the rhythmic chant of the ocean, 
The whisper-bending of trees, 
The lonely longing of the wind
As it scales the white-tipped mountains.

It is the rocky quiet of the canyon, 
The lustrous waking of a star
The blind touching of the ferns 
As they murmur on the forest floor.

It is the mechanical natter of beetle flight 
The high decibel opera of whales, 
The insistent crying of chicks, 
As they stretch their tiny yellow beaks.

It is the suckle of babes at the breast, 
The voices of children at play 
The sighs of the wounded and weary 
As violence comes to and end.

It is the magnificent silence of moonfall, 
The rainbow’s slow intake of breath, 
The trumpet of the vagrant loon 
As it lands on the great pond once more.

****
On a final note, it is winter here and I am longing for the time when the loon lands on the great ponds once more.... Come home to me, Vagrant Spirit.

18th century Universalist James Relly said if we all fell with Adam, then we all rose with the birth, rather than the death of Jesus.  Relly thought this divine birth re-sanctified all of humanity. This theology makes Christmas even more important than Easter. And, as some contemporary feminist theologians argue, it makes Mary part of salvation, co-redemptress.  So today I focus on the exceptional mother of that amazing child and prophet of God.

What happens when we ponder the Universalist message that our physical being was consecrated by the rose that bloomed in winter?  I think it means that we are also called to share the work of salvation.

Humanity is continually re-sanctified by those who teach an act on love, peace, acceptance, truth, healing, and wholeness.  In a Universally-sanctified humanity each person has the capacity to save, whether it be one life or two, or whole communities, or nations. Things change when we see the savior in each other, in our own weak resilient flesh, our human existence.

Let it be said that salvation is never easy, whether it be one life we save, or many. It is arduous, painful, and frightening.  In moments when our courage quavers, let us remember the story of a girl who, when asked to robe the soul Divine within herself, responded so fearless and so brave. When we are asked to give substance to sacred impulses within us, to take up the work of goodness, may we respond like her - first with questions, and then with a courageous “Yes.”

What happens when we dare believe we can participate in saving our precious world? Consider Mary’s visit to her cousin and the bold prophetic song that issued from the heart of one so young, so new.  Let us consider how our own souls might amplify the Sacred, work with Spirit to raise the lowly to high places, to fill up the hungry. Surely these acts of mercy are the true work of Christmas.

What happens when we take up this work, and ponder its painful or bewildering consequences?  Imagine a teenager pondering visits from wise men, shepherds, and the unrecorded women of the nativity - angels in disguise bearing blankets, food, wisdom and warmth.  Imagine angels from on high, asking and announcing impossible hope to the lowly and the outcast. When the costs of our work seem too high, think of Mary as as she looked upon her babe safe asleep when so many others died.  Consider how she may have pondered thoughtless emperors and the cruel course of kings.

As she pondered all this, I wonder what conclusions that young mother reached? I wonder how all this shaped the woman who shaped the life of Jesus.  What lessons did she convey to that exceptional child, eyes so wide with wisdom, who stood quietly at her knee and followed her about her daily chores? How much of what she taught him from the treasures of her heart and the meditations of her mind echoed later in the temple and from the hills of Galilee?

How much of her example revealed itself in his actions of healing, teaching, kindness, wisdom?  How much of the strength she bestowed through her flesh and her mothering gave him the courage to continue when he had to drink from the cup of suffering?  How could Jesus not have been affected by a mother such as Mary? How much we owe her we may never know.

What if we who are parents and teachers thought we were raising children who might one day act to heal a life or two, teach and so touch others, help bind a fractured community, and in some small way heal this bruised resilient world? What if we looked for, expected that saving power in our own mothers’ children, in the sanctity of ourselves and one another? How would we treat one another? How might the precious gift of profound respect flow out of us to touch any who drew near? What would the angels breathless sing in their heavens and from every bitter hillside; what new Nowells compose?

Oh let us ponder in our hearts the angel’s gift, Mary's gift, the gift of Christmas.

This is adapted from a Christmas Eve sermon I gave in 2009.